


Paid In Full

by coveredbyroses



Series: 2018 SPNKinkBingo [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, F/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Smut, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 15:33:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15489018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: With Sam out of the bunker for the moment, you and Dean decide to try out a certain sexual fantasy.Written for Spnkinkbingo; square filled: Roleplay





	Paid In Full

One step into the bunker’s garage and you’ve instantly forgotten what you came in here for.

You’ve forgotten because Dean Winchester is straight ahead; bent at the waist underneath the hood of the Impala, hovering over the engine bay, grease-streaked blue jeans hugging tight around his perfect ass and thighs.

You should leave—he’s busy. And you’ve been dating the hunter long enough to know better than to put yourself between Dean and Baby. But you can’t leave now…you _want_ him.

And you have a plan.

“Hey, Dean.” You keep your voice low, careful not to startle him. The concrete is cool and smooth against your bare feet as you pad toward your boyfriend.

He ducks out from under the hood, turning half-way to face you, wiping his black-splotched hands on an equally dirty rag.

“Heya, sweetheart—what’s up?”

“Nothin’. Just wanted to see what you were up to.”

Dean nods, “Old girl was grumblin’ when I took her out earlier,” he says, “just tryin’ to pinpoint the problem.”

“She’s _always_ grumbling,” you quip, crossing your arms.

He huffs a chuckle, “Yeah…well I know her—this was different. Thinkin’ it might be her alternator.”

“Ah,” you nod. “You want some help?”

Dean throws a quick glance behind him, “Yeah, actually…” He crouches down, rooting around in the open toolbox at his feet until he finds what he’s looking for. “Here—c’mere,” he says, handing you a black flashlight and motioning for you to follow him. “Shine it right over there.” You have no idea what you’re looking at (you can appreciate cars, but you don’t know jack-shit about them), it’s all a jumbled mess of rubber and aluminum, but you point the beam of light where he directs.

“Sam home yet?” he asks.

“Nope.”

“Damn…must’ve been _some_ hookup.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

“What was her name?”

“Carrie. I think.”

“Well, good for him. He deserves a little fun.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “good for him.”

Dean’s arm brushes against yours as he works, and _damn_ , you can smell _him_ underneath the layers of fuel and sweat.

Several soundless moments pass and you can’t take it anymore. His closeness, his intoxicating scent, the undeniable heat radiating off of him…Time to set your plan into motion.

“Ya know,” you start, your eyes jumping up to his face, “I can definitely see you doing this for a living.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Bring it a little lower.”

“Huh?”

“The light,” he chuckles, “bring the light a little lower.”

“Oh,” you laugh. You’ve been so busy ogling him that your hold on the flashlight has slipped.

“I mean,” you continue, correcting your aim on the light, “you’re seriously _good_ at this. I can’t even remember the last time I had to take my car into an actual shop.”

“Yeah, well…these old beauties are my specialty. I make no promises on that heap of plastic you call a car.”

You nudge him hard with your shoulder, “Shut up,” you giggle.

“I’m just saying…” Jesus, your voice is getting lower by the _second_. “It’s rare to find a man so good with his hands.”

_Well, that wasn’t subtle at all, but there ya go. Well done._

He stills, turning his head to yours. His eyes are noticeably darker.

“That so?”

“Uh-huh.” You click off the flashlight, setting it on the edge of Baby’s hood as you turn your body towards his. “I’d definitely let you get your hands under _my_ hood…anytime.”

_Really? You’re gonna use—whatever, proceed._

Dean narrows his eyes, lifts an arm to check his watch, “Damn, woman. It ain’t even _noon_ and you’re already needy.”

You give him a playful shove, “Shut it,” you laugh. “It’s just—I dunno…we still have the bunker all to ourselves…I just thought maybe we could try out that little _idea_ we were talkin’ about last week…”

His brows furrow as thinks, “Th-the _roleplay_ thing?”

“Yeah…”

His eyes widen just before a lazy grin slowly blossoms over his face. And then he’s shaking his head, “All right, gimme ten to go get cleaned up—”

You bring both hands to his chest, “Nuh-uh.”

“Goddamn,” he sniggers, “are you _that_ horny?”

“No…well—yeah. Kinda. But I need you like this. For your _role_.”

Dean tilts his head. “What’s my role?”

“Mechanic, numbnuts!”

His eyebrows lift in pleasant surprise, the corners of his mouth twitching in the beginnings of a smirk. “Ohh…yeah, uh, okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. So, um, how do you wanna start?”

“Just follow my lead.”

You stand a little straighter, jerking your head back to toss your hair behind you, “Thank you _so_ much for the repair,” you gush in your sultriest voice, “It’s my boyfriend’s car, you see, and he’s just a _little_ attached…So what do I owe you?”

Dean blinks,“Um…well, I mean, th-that depends. What did I do?”

You roll your eyes, “Seriously, Dean? It’s called role- _play_ …Just make it u—Okay, know what? Let’s just try this again.”

You pat at your jean pockets, “Oh _shit_! I completely forgot my credit card…Is there any other way I can pay you?”

A slow grin spreads across Dean’s face, emerald eyes glittering under the harsh garage lights.

“I’m sure we can work somethin’ out…”

“Like what?”

“Like this.” He runs a hand through your hair, one palm cupping the back of your neck while the other snakes around your lower back to pull you close, where he tilts his head, slotting his lips against yours in a slow, lazy kiss.

You smile into it at first, a little giddy with the novelty of the situation, but the smile quickly fades when he licks into you, thick tongue massaging your own as he explores the wet-hot depths of your mouth. Your hands slide up his sweat-tacky arms to settle on his huge shoulders as your lips work against each other.

There’s a soft sucking sound when he pulls away, gazing down at you from underneath hooded eyes.

“Does that cover everything?” you murmur, eyes sweeping over every handsome feature of his face.

“M’afraid not, miss,” he says lowly, “You still owe me for the labor.”

“I see…and what will that cost me?”

“Well, let’s see…I had to make _quite_ a few repairs. Why don’t we start with this…” Calloused fingers dip under the hem of your shirt, pulling it up to expose your stomach. You lift your arms over your head so he can slip it up and off of you, until you’re clad in only your bra and cut-off shorts.

“Think I’m gonna need these too.” You bite your lip when his fingers ghost down your stomach to work your shorts open, a big hand immediately delving inside to palm you through your panties, swirling two wide fingertips over your dampening cotton-covered entrance—

Your hands clasp onto his muscled arm, “Oh! Oh _shit_ —” You weren’t expecting him to touch you so soon, and good _god_ , does he feel good. “Yeah,” he rumbles, “these definitely gotta go.”

He pulls his hand away to shimmy your shorts down your legs, letting them pool around your feet so that you can step out of them.

Dean steps back, lets his eyes rake over your barely-covered body. You shiver a little, at the dank chill of the garage, as you stand in front of the leering hunter in only your bra and panties.

“Will that be all?”

“Not quite—you still need to pay the service fees…”

“How do I—”

“Why don’tcha get down on your knees for me, sweetheart?”

_Oh, yes._

The concrete is hard, painful against your kneecaps, but this is so _good_ —you aren’t about to stop now.

Your mouth waters as Dean loosens his belt, dragging the leather through the glinting metal of the buckle. You reach up, your fingers making quick work of the button and zipper before tucking underneath the denim waistband, tugging until his jeans are bunched around the tops of his thighs.

You smooth your hands back up his legs, palms stroking over the sizable lump pushing against the fabric of his boxers. Slowly, you peel the cotton underwear off of him, releasing his swelling cock to bounce toward you.

You lock eyes with him from under your lashes as you lick into your right palm, then curl your fingers around his silky length. You start with long, leisurely strokes as you gape up at him, licking your lower lip into your mouth as you watch him slowly come undone.

His lips are parted as he watches you with lust-blown eyes, hands twitching at his sides while you lazily pump him. You lick at your lips, right hand gripping him at the base as you guide him into your mouth, your left hand bracing against his bare hip. You wrap your lips around the flared head, his hips _jerking_ forward when your tongue flicks at his weeping slit.

You softly moan at the tang of him, stretching your neck forward to take him deeper, your hand continuing to work his shaft as you find your rhythm.

Thick fingers rake through your hair as you bob on his length, and Dean groans when you hollow your cheeks to provide him with a little extra suction. His hips begin to buck on their own—and you let them, loosening you jaw a little more to allow him to thrust into the velvety heat of your mouth.

You bring your right hand from his shaft to settle against his other hip as he takes control, gasping under closed eyes, palms flush against your skull as he thrusts a little harder; faster—

He pulls back, slipping out of your mouth. Choked sounds force their way through clenched teetch as his fingers grip tight around his fully rigid length, just in front of his tensing balls.

Panting, Dean takes a step back as he finds his bearings, while you gingerly rise to your feet, bare knees red and aching. His eyes are still shut tight, jaw working underneath stubbled skin. His fist is still locked around the base of his shaft—

And then he’s _rushing_ you past one of the pillars, between two of the garage’s vintage cars, scooping you up to wrap your legs around his waist, throbbing cock pinned between you. An _‘oomph!’_ leaves you as your back collides with the wall, Dean’s fingers immediately moving behind you to unclasp your bra with _dizzying_ speed. The straps bite into your arms as he roughly _yanks_ the material off of you to be forgotten somewhere in the garage.

Dean shifts you in his arms, using the wall to support your weight as he bends down to lick a nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. “Oh, god…” you whisper, the sensation of his mouth on you sending liquid heat hurtling straight to your cunt. He releases you with a wet pop, trailing his plush lips upwards to press open-mouthed kisses over the swell of your breast, continuing up your chest until he reaches your pulse point, where he sucks a dark mark into the sensitive spot.

You run your hands down the length of his shirt, fisting the hem to jerkily pull it off of him. You get it as far as his wide chest when he takes over, quickly ridding himself of the black fabric before hooking two fingers underneath the soaked crotch of your panties, pulling them aside as he lines himself up—

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, fingertips pressing into the hot, clammy flesh as he pushes in. Your thighs twitch around his waist as he slowly fills you, his hands pulsing against your hips.

His pace is slow and deep at first; long, easy strokes that let you feel every vein, every ridge. You close your eyes, letting your head tip back against the smooth wall as he rocks into you, your breath quickening with every thorough thrust.

Your eyes pop open, startled when full lips find yours, gently sucking and nibbling at the pillowy flesh as fucks into you. You part your lips after a moment, moaning into his mouth as his tongue quickly and _perfectly_ matches the pace of his thrusts. Your eyes flutter closed again—you’re a little light-headed, a little floaty as Dean simultaneously fucks your mouth _and_ your cunt.

He’s thrusting a little faster now, his lips leaving yours as he plants his hands against the wall, just beyond your shoulders. He’s beginning to pant, hanging his head at the crook of your neck as hot breath bursts into your ear.

Faster. He’s steadily pumping into you, hard enough that you’re beginning to slide up and down the wall from his efforts. You slide your hands from his shoulders to clasp at the back of his neck, cracking your eyes open to take in the sight of him—

His face is flushed, glistening with exertion, lips parted with panting breaths. Heavy-lidded eyes hold onto your lust-fogged gaze as he drives into you.

_Faster._ He’s fucking you hard enough that you can hear his skin slapping against yours, your breasts bouncing with his burning thrusts. Pain blooms along your back from the repeated friction, your stretched thighs aching from clenching around Dean’s thick waist—but your jaw hangs slack in soundless rapture as Dean plunges into you, grunting low in his throat while he reaches so deep you can almost feel him in your _spine_.

And then a thumb brushes feather-light over your clit; once…twice…and then he’s flicking it— _hard_ , overandoverandover while he wildly pistons in and out of you.

“ _Shiiit_!” you keen, sweat rolling down your skin in salty-warm trails, the wet slapping of flesh ricocheting off the old walls.

You can feel the fire rising just under your skin, your muscles liquifying and tensing up all at the same time. Your mouth and brain can’t seem to cooperate, you’re there—right _there,_ stiff and shaking behind the slippery, iron cage of his body, “P-please…oh god—please, I need to…to…”

“So…” Dean growls, voice raw, “… _come_ then.”

You can actually hear the wheezing gasp as you suck in one last lungful of air before you’re falling, pussy locking down on him so hard, you worry somewhere in the back of your mind that you might be _hurting_ him as your nails dig into his hot, slick neck.

He fucks you as best as he can against your cunt’s vice-grip, and then he’s shouting, shoving himself impossibly deep as he floods your channel with sticky, wet heat.

Neither of you move for several seconds, gasping and panting into your shared space.

“Can you—” you croak, “my back hurts.”

“Oh, shit—yeah. Hang on.”

He bends at the knees, helps you unwind your legs from around him until you’re standing flat on the cold concrete.

“So,” you say, wincing as he pulls out of you, “does that cover everything?”

He blinks at you, brows slightly wrinkled as he straightens to his true height. You dip your head a little, widening your eyes at him, reminding him of the game you’re playing.

“Oh!” his brows lift in understanding, and he chuckles as he tucks himself back into his jeans, “Yes, ma’am,” he drawls, running a thumb across the cushion of your lower lip,

“You’re paid in full.”

 


End file.
